She being FatFace, a 5-pound adult feral with three teeth, a bruiser face and a heart made of cotton candy and Nicholas Sparks books.

Over the course of a year, this orange street cat went from looking at human beings with extreme terror and skepticism to now rubbing her face up against mine and sleeping on my chest nightly.

Watching FatFace transform from a malnourished wilding to a happy snuggler has filled my heart with so much joy, sometimes I feel like throwing up. I’m in love, and I’ve quickly spiraled into the malady known as CCLS— Crazy Cat Lady Syndrome.

In hopes of coming to terms with this self-diagnosis, I thought I’d share all the ways I’ve become a crazy cat person.

I truly believe that my cat is nicer and smarter than 50% of Americans. It has become extremely apparent during this election cycle.

When weighing whether I should go to an event or stay home and snuggle my cat, my cat wins 95% of the time. And I’m ok with that. I really am. It’s all good. Yep.

I did this.

4. My social media feed is now almost exclusively filled with photos of my cat, tweets about how I’m trying to do everything in my power NOT to post a picture of my cat and Facebook statuses of innocuous milestones of my cat.

7. My body looks like a tiny man with a tiny bayonet attacked me on a bender, and I’m ok with that.

8. When people ask me about her, we both realize that they’ve made a huge mistake.

9. I can spontaneously tear up when thinking about how she used to find comfort from the rain under trees and porches, and how the other cats would push her around, and how she would stare at us from the other side of the fence wondering if there was a better life for her.

10. I feed a fucking cat colony every day. Ten cats depend on me for survival.